Pure Blood Part 8

He bowed again and disappeared into the crowd. Shelby grabbed me by the arm. "Are you insane?" she hissed.

I jerked away from her. "Are you? You're acting like a virgin on her first date. I thought you'd been to these places before!"

"Top Hat wasn't anything like this," said Shelby, looking at the nearest platform. Two men were engaged in a slave-and-master display.

"I'm going to take a look at this wall," I said. "If you don't want to have someone offer to tongue-bathe you, I suggest you stick with me."

Shelby leaped up and followed me so closely I felt like I was back in preschool, playing Choo-Choo. The noise and the stench of closely packed, sweaty people were starting to make my head throb, but I'd never admit it. It almost smelled like a pack house, the overwhelming a.s.sault of pheromones jolting my senses repeatedly.

The wall had about twenty photographs on it, some of them not of people's faces. I guess there was something to be said for getting to the point.

"This whole night is a loss," said Shelby at my elbow. "If this Samael guy doesn't come out in public, what's the point?"

I was starting to agree with her until a peaked, prematurely aged face in one of the photos leaped out at me. He had looked a little different trying to stab me in the eye, but throw on a leather dog collar and some makeup and it was him.

"Edward," I said. Shelby looked where I was pointing.

"Who the Hex is Edward?"

"The junkie who tried to kill me the night I found Bryan Howard." I grabbed the bartender's elbow as he was pa.s.sing and he favored me with a look that would have withered Napoleon. "What do you know about Edward?"

"That he wouldn't be into you," the bartender said, jerking his arm away. "Men only, strictly femme."

"It's not for personal reasons," I said. "I just need to know how long he's worked here and who his a.s.sociates are."

The bartender's lip curled. "Listen, little miss newbie, if you're looking for a story to tell your suburban friends about your night in the big bad city, go get drunk and raped in Waterfront. What we do here is private and we don't need your business."

Charming. Obviously my feminine wiles were powerless. I dug in my wallet and found five twenties, slapping them on the painted plywood. "A hundred bucks if you get me an appointment with Samael, tonight."

He reconsidered Shelby and me, eyes narrowing. "Who are you people?"

"People who know what we want," I said. "Samael. Tonight. Can you do it, or are you really just pus.h.i.+ng booze?"

His hand snaked out and snapped up the cash, and he opened the folding section of the bar. "Come into the back room. We'll negotiate. You." He pointed at Shelby. "Wait out here. I can't be seen with someone in that square an outfit."

I gave Shelby the nod to let her know it was okay and she backed off reluctantly, looking genuinely worried. "I'll be right here."

The bartender led me into what turned out to be a storage room and locked the door behind us, pocketing the key.

Or maybe it wasn't so okay. He took out a Baggie of something not confectioner's sugar from his back pocket and offered it to me. "Want a little snort to relax you?"

"No. I want Samael."

He rolled his eyes. "You could try being nice to me, sweetie. Ever think of that?"

"Sorry," I said. "Walking, talking rodents tend to bring out the worst in me."

He laughed, rubbing the c.o.ke along his gums. "Doesn't matter. You're not getting in to see Samael anytime soon, anyway." The Baggie disappeared and he advanced on me, fast, pinning my shoulders to the wall. "I think you'll find that this experience will broaden your horizons plenty. And you did did pay me." He licked up the side of my neck and laughed again. "G.o.ds, I love a stupid straight." pay me." He licked up the side of my neck and laughed again. "G.o.ds, I love a stupid straight."

One hand dropped to tug at my bustier and waistband. My shock that this was actually happening, that a plain human was about to a.s.sault me, finally sank in. He had no idea what I was. To his eyes, I was a dumb career woman who had gotten herself in over her head and was currently paying the price.

The were exploded into my consciousness and I snarled. The bartender stopped his fumbling with my zipper and stared, eyes wide.

I latched a hand onto the back of his neck, so hard I could feel the twin tendons curl under my fingers. Then I drove my knee into his crotch and held it there, crus.h.i.+ng him in a vise until he screamed, which was almost immediately.

"G.o.ds d.a.m.n it!"

I kneed him again, with all of my were strength. "The G.o.ds have very little to do with this, you son of a b.i.t.c.h."

He howled and folded like a hastily erected tent, limp on the floor, shaking so hard I thought he might have a convulsion. I can't say I would have stepped in if he did.

I hauled him up, his right arm in a textbook restraining hold, and pointed him to the door. "Unlock it."

"The... the key's in my pocket," he whimpered, tears streaming from his eyes. "You b.i.t.c.h, you killed me..."

"You've still got one working arm, so I suggest you use it."

"It hurts!" he moaned.

"Of course it hurts," I agreed. "t.e.s.t.i.c.l.es are fragile, aren't they? Now open this door with that key, or I open it with your head."

He managed to fumble out the key and throw open the door, exposing us to the noise and crush of people once again. Shelby rushed over to us. "What the Hex happened?"

"She a.s.saulted me!" the bartender howled. "I want the police!"

"You tried to a.s.sault me first," I said, "and we are the police."

"Jesus," Shelby said. "And you got on my case for calling attention!"

"Sorry that getting mauled wasn't on my agenda for the evening," I snapped. "Hey, spitwad, where's Samael?"

"In the back room," he moaned. "He'll be with clients."

I twisted his arm to give him a little impetus. 'Take us back there."

He complied, staggering but managing to stay upright. He was just d.a.m.n lucky it wasn't close to the phase, or he'd be wearing his crotch as a hat.

The back room was an innocuous door located behind the cage that simply read private. The chained woman had been replaced by another, a redhead, and the line was still just as long.

The bartender knocked at the private door. "Not a word," I warned him, ratcheting up the pressure on his wrist. He cringed and nodded.

After a long moment the door swung open and a topless woman with electrical tape crossing out her nipples peered at us.

"Robbie, you've got to stop letting the pretty ones use you so," she said with a smile quirking her lips. "Samael is going to be most displeased to be disturbed."

"We're sorry, really," I said before Robbie could open his mouth. "Please. We just want to talk to him."

She looked me over, tongue protruding slightly between her lips, and I felt dirtier than if I'd just won a wet T-s.h.i.+rt contest judged by longsh.o.r.emen.

"Come in then, you beautiful hot thing," she told me. I shoved Robbie back into the crowd and went through the door, Shelby following. If being a beautiful hot thing to a Wendy O. Williams clone was what it took to finally have some answers, then a beautiful hot thing I was.

"I'm hot too," Shelby groused as Wendy led us through a small foyer into what had, at one time, been a walk-in freezer and was now draped with velvet and lit with the same smoky pink as the rest of the club.

"Shelby? Really not the time," I told her.

"Some ladies to see you, dearest," said the woman, and she ushered us in.

My first look at Samael was sort of a letdown-he was average height, muscled but nothing special, wearing leather rock-star pants sans s.h.i.+rt and a dainty leather Lone Ranger-style mask. There were no tattoos, no scars, not even an earring.

Then he faced me, and I found myself looking into eyes as cold as a winter ocean. His mouth was just slightly too large for his face, which made him look obscene and mad all at once. Beside me, Shelby's scent spiked from nerves to pure fear in a jet of copper.

"Ah," he purred, setting down the flogger he held and extending a hand. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Pick the last thing on earth I would do willingly right at that moment, and touch Samael was it. He had the sinuous, slightly oily quality to his movements that reminded me of a were on the hunt, a creature wearing human skin.

I kept my hands at my sides and said, "We heard that you and Vincent Blackburn sometimes worked as a team. Is he here?" Innocent and guileless, that's me.

A smile flickered and died on Samael's face. "Vincent is dead, pretty."

How the h.e.l.l had he known that? "He is? How awful."

There was a moan from behind Samael and I peered around him to see a girl strapped to a padded ma.s.sage table, b.l.o.o.d.y red marks defining her ribs and b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Samael's a.s.sistant walked over and casually began to fondle her, making soothing noises.

"Is she okay?" Shelby asked. She was still twitchy and I willed her not to make a scene.

"She is experiencing the greatest pleasure of her life," said Samael with a smile. "She will learn the rituals of pain and come to expect it as a reward. A very fortunate young lady."

"Sorry to take up your time," I said. I had been about to identify myself and question Samael properly, but I became aware of the soundproofed, closed-in room and thought better of it. Right now, I just wanted to teleport out of the Creep Dimension and go home.

"I know you, young lady," said Samael to Shelby, fixing his glacial eyes on her.

"Oh, I don't think so," said Shelby. "I've never been here before." She tugged at me. "We can't get that two-on-one team-up we wanted, er ... Hester. Let's go."

Hester? Well, Shelby won the prize for worst undercover improv ever.

"No," said Samael and we both reflexively stopped. "No, I remember you now." He stripped off his mask and crossed the s.p.a.ce to Shelby, squeezing her arm so hard she cried out. "Top Hat," he said. "You're the little b.i.t.c.h who arrested me in front of half a dozen colleagues. Do you have any idea the humiliation I suffered?" His formal accent was gone, replaced with an edge born somewhere in New York or Jersey.

"I do, and I also remember pulling you off a thirteen-year-old girl," Shelby spat. "Get your hands off me!"

Samael threw her across the room and Shelby hit the metal wall, crumpling. He turned on me, but I already had my gun out. "Police," I said. "Show me your hands."

Rage flaming like blue fire in his eyes, he slowly raised them.

"On the ground," I said. "Slowly and calmly. Clasp your hands behind your head."

He didn't move, just s.h.i.+fted his eyes over my shoulder a split second before I felt something heavy smash into my skull. Stars spun and I went to my knees. I los) my grip on my gun and felt hard hands pull me up by my arms and hair.

I lashed out, growling and righting as a were, not a homicide detective. My jaw twinged as I fanged out and I dimly heard the girl's shout as she and Samael struggled to contain me. Someone hit me again, and everything went black and soft as cotton as I spiraled into darkness.

CHAPTER 11.

I came to with mesh pressing into my cheek and the rhythmic chanting of a crowd in my ears. My head vibrated like a guitar string and I felt sick when I tried to raise it. I touched the back of my skull and a little blood came away on my fingers.

"Luna!" That voice I recognized. Shelby swam into view, arms pinned by two bouncers and nearly engulfed by the crowd pressing in. Mesh separated us. I was in the cage.

A hand lifted my head by my hair and I swatted weakly. "Now, none of that," said Samael, squirting my face with a water bottle. It was cold and stung at the small cuts the mesh had left across my skin, but it did wake me up.

"I'm a cop," I said. "So is Shelby. You can't do this to us."

Samael leaned close to my ear, his breath caressing it. "Do you really think anyone in this place will care what what you are cop?" you are cop?"

He had a point there.

The floor of the cage vibrated as Samael crossed it and opened the door, admitting two scrawny men in jeans, torsos bare. Maybe that was Bete Noire's dress code-s.h.i.+rtless, scrawny, servicing.

The men milled behind Samael, bringing with them an overdrive version of the hormone-laden stink that permeated the place. Again I was reminded of the pack house and then realized with a start that the two men were weres. c.r.a.p. This was nine shades of not good.

"You want to see fear?" Samael asked the chanting crowd. "You want to see the primal urges that drive us all?"

The crowd cheered like Led Zeppelin was about to come on stage. Samael made a quick exit and as soon as the door slammed shut the two were men advanced on me. They reached out and propped me up against the wall of the cage, staring. I glared up at them.

"Don't touch me."

"Insoli have no rights," said one. "Shut up."

"Yeah," said the other. "No pack leader for you to run back to and tattle once we're through." He thrust his groin at me suggestively.

Oh, Hex it. They were in rut, and wanted to mate. With me. The first one leaned down and sniffed behind my ear. "You're ripe, baby. We're gonna give the people a good show."

"No!" Shelby was screaming. "No, let me go! go! She's my partner!" She ground her foot into one of the bouncer's insteps and he released her. Shelby took off through the crowd, a few of whom made a halfhearted attempt to stop her. More were interested in my imminent violation. She's my partner!" She ground her foot into one of the bouncer's insteps and he released her. Shelby took off through the crowd, a few of whom made a halfhearted attempt to stop her. More were interested in my imminent violation.

"Oh no, that's fine," I muttered after Shelby. "I'll just stay here and clean up. You run along."

"Hold still," said the second were. "Don't want you to struggle. But if you wanna scream, that's okay." He nosed against my neck to give me a domination bite, the kind that mates use to show claim of each other. I whipped my head sideways and smashed my forehead into his nose. It gave a satisfactory snap, even with all the noise.

I forced myself to get to my feet, slipping off my boots and wincing as the cold bare mesh cut into the b.a.l.l.s of my feet, trying to balance and prepared to fight without any luck at all. My concussion was already wearing off, but even with my were speed-healing, I was in bad shape to take on two males.

The first one roared at seeing his dominance challenged and hit me on the side of the head, sending me staggering. I stood upright again and locked his eyes, backing him up toward the opposite wall. If I could pull a dominate, I could get out of this alive and reasonably intact. If, and it was a very big If. Were men in rut tended to be single-minded, to say the least.

He came at me again and I kicked him in the gut, sending him backward to rattle the mesh. Dominate or no, I wouldn't lie down and die. I'd fight like my ancestor wolves of the Dark Ages and beyond, tooth and nail until someone beat the last breath out of me.

The male with the broken nose jumped on my back, his weight almost felling me. I aimed an elbow over my shoulder and, when he let go, pivoted and slammed a right into his face. His jaw skewed sideways and he yelped, cowering.